Aftershock
by sakura rakuen
Summary: I've posted Chapter 3. Summary: Light is gone. Yet the world still remembers Kira. This is the aftermath of God's departure; told from the point of view of various characters. I do not own Death Note.
1. Chapter 1

Matsuda

He passes those churches every day on his way to work. No, not as a police officer. Matsuda gave that up years ago. He is now assistant manager at _Pretty Hana_, a local flower shop.

It's only two blocks from his apartment, and he chooses to walk there; rain or shine. The exercise keeps him focused; it stops his mind from remembering...

Well, it did at first. 

All of a sudden some rich businessman who had idolized Kira had decided to fund the building of a church to his God. 

Matsuda grinds his teeth every time he passes that godforsaken place; there's always a queue of people praying to Kira for justice. 

Innocent children, no older than five, lay a flower or an apple on the altar and ask if please, _please_ Kira-sama could help them; Tou-san was being really mean last night, and could he please stop the bullies from taking their lunch money every day? Thanks, Kira! I'm counting on you.

And he can't help but think that in killing Light, they had unwittingly established his immortality.

�

* * *

�

Every morning he passes the church, and despite the quickening of his pace, he catches fragments of their prayers.

"Kira-sama; my little Yuki, she's...bring whoever has done this to her to justice."

"I don't want Mother to get hurt anymore. Kira, please."

"I can't stand it. Kira, I'm begging you; let Koji return!"

A trembling, desperate mother. A bruised, torn child. A sister who's lost a brother. These are the disciples of Kira.

Every time he hears prayers like these; there is a leaden weight in his hand. He wonders if he did right to shoot the boy who had helped so many people.

No, he can't think like that again. Kira was a madman, a murderer. He'd killed his own father. He'd slain his friend. And he would have killed him too. He would have killed everyone. Matsuda had no choice, really. Kira was a criminal, and he was a cop. Simple as that.

But such thoughts no longer bring reassurance.

�

* * *

�

He remembers Sayu. Such a happy, innocent girl. She didn't deserve the sort of state she was in now. She'd simply been used as a hostage; yet she'd been irreparably damaged during that brief time. 

Misa-Misa. He likes to remember the young starlet as the adorably naive blond she was before Kira. Now she was just another tombstone; lonely even in death.

Mrs. Yagami had shocked him the most. She had turned Sayu over to her aunt, and thrown herself into the Kamo river. Her funeral is next week; Matsuda hasn't decided whether to go or not.

Anyone with the least ties to Kira had suffered. Him included.

�

* * *

�

Matsuda likes to think he looks distinguished, but who's he kidding? The lines etched on his face, the flecks of ash in his once-ebony hair, the tired way he smiles (if he smiles at all); those are all results of the Kira investigation.

He sighs.� The Budda died and was worshiped. Jesus died and was worshiped. Kira died, and is worshiped. 

�

* * *

�

Three years later.

The church is still up, and more people are flocking to it. Crime has resurfaced with astounding ferocity. There is talk of a third World War. Four bombs were dropped on Osaka alone in the last month. Half the region is reduced to rubble.

Everywhere, people cry for justice. And he feels that he's somehow deprived them of it.

Matsuda does the only thing he can.

He doesn't know why he still has the gun; except hat maybe some part of him knew it would come to this once day.

As he closes his eyes to avoid seeing the sticky red spatter pouring out of his head; he can only see Light's grinning face. The air of superiority; the smirk of conquest.

He hears his voice, too. As his world dims and he can no longer make out Kira's face, his words haunt Matsuda instead.

"_I won."_

_�_

* * *

**�**

**A/N: Yes, this is how I picture the aftermath of Light's death. I never really like Matsuda, but I never hated him. I'm being realistic with this. Matsuda doesn't have the nerve for this type of trauma. It was only a matter of time before he killed himself. I think I'll do either Near, Misa, or Ryuk for the next chapter.**

�

* * *

_�_


	2. Chapter 2

Misa

"Yagami Light was pronounced dead of cardiac arrest today, at precisely..."

Misa lets the tears come. They pool around her eyes, mixing with her makeup; staining her dress. She doesn't try to hold them back; lets them fall thickly into her lap; a watery black from her mascara.

If Light was here, she wouldn't be crying. She always did her best to appear strong in front of him. But even if she couldn't always manage it, he'd loved her just the same.

Right?

If Light was here, he'd take her into his embrace and smooth her hair, never saying a word but somehow calming her without a sound.

But Light wasn't here.

A cry escapes her; and it's as if an internal dam has ruptured. Sobs rack her body as she convulses on the sofa, gripping the pillows with enough force to tear them apart. She bites her lip in a vain effort to stop crying so much—and draws blood. It mixes with oncoming tears, and all she can taste is the bitterness; the saltiness. The sheer horror of losing him.

Rem had warned her about this. Said that all humans died sometime; and that Light being Kira only assured him dying early. Said that if Misa was smart, she wouldn't get mixed up in it.

But she had. And now here she was; ignoring Mogi's guilty face, tinted with vague disgust. She knows what he's thinking; how can someone like her still love someone like Kira?

She sits up; her face still sopping wet but fixed into a feral snarl.

"Misa l-loves him! M-Misa didn't c-care if he was K-Kira or not!" she bawls. The man looks at her with something close to pity. He's wishing he hadn't drawn the short straw; that someone else had had to come and break the news to her.

"Misa w-wants you to leave," she says, forcing her voice to remain steady, as she points to the door. He stays still. For a moment she wants to ask how he can be alive when Light's not. She glares at the red numbers above his head. Fifty more years of life. How easily she could change that...

"Amane-san, I know this is hard," he swallows visibly. She throws the nearest object at him. A glass swan. It misses by about a foot, but he gets the point and leaves, shoulders sagging.

Once he is gone, it's easy to start crying again. And she screams. Screams until her throat is raw; until she can't recognize the sound she's making, it sounds like a wild beast. She swallows hard, again and again, not caring that she can taste blood. She falls asleep still trembling.

* * *

In the morning, as she steps into the bathtub, she wonders what to do now. What had she done before Light? She can't remember any of it; not her childhood, not her career; nothing. It's as if she had been created for the sole purpose of serving him; of helping him achieve his dream.

_What happens to a dream once the dreamer is gone?_

She remembers the line from a book she once read. And she suddenly wants to crumple to the floor and cry again. She just might. Just lean back and submerse herself in the bubbly water; let her lungs burn until they flood with water. Her heart was already broken, why was it still beating? Why not just end it...all of it...

No.

Light wouldn't have wanted it; she knows that much; whether he was using her or not.

But Light hadn't wanted to die, either. She squeezes her eyes shut to prevent any more tears, but a few leak from the corners of her eyes. She steps out of the bath.

Her tasks seem so pointless now. Her life seems so pointless now. She had grown so used to doing whatever she could to help Light; her entire day had revolved around him. Modeling suddenly paled in comparison.

She dresses anyway. She pushes aside half her wardrobe to reach the black. She'd once loved it; loved how it contrasted with her skin, giving her the look of a porcelain doll. Now she detest it; can't stand to wear it; abhors what it stands for. She slips into it mechanically nonetheless.

The rest of the day is a blur. She poses, as is required of her; but she doesn't smile, doesn't talk, doesn't laugh. After work, her manager asks if there's anything wrong. Misa shakes her head. He offers to take her to dinner; needs to talk about something. She accepts, not wanting to come back to her empty apartment, knowing all she'll find there are traces of _him_.

"Misa, what would you like to order?"

She hardly notices the man in front of her, until—

"The police came to me. Said something happened with your boyfriend, and that it's shaken you up pretty bad. They proposed that you take a...a sort of 'vacation'. It's for your own good, the fresh air of Kanto might..."

She drowns out the rest of his senseless blathering, flickering her eyes back to him only when he stops speaking.

"I..." she can hardly form words. He lays his hand on hers, gently, as if trying to reassure her. She pulls away, studying his name to write down later.

"There's no question about it. You're taking leave. A month off will work wonders..."

She stands up and leaves, ignoring his sputters of indignation. When she arrives home (and how strange it is to call it that; without Light it's not the same) she crawls into bed and cries herself to sleep.

* * *

A week has passed. Whoever said time heals all wounds was full of shit. She is still crying every day, almost nonstop. She vaguely wonders if it's possible to run out of tears. From her experience, it isn't.

Sometimes it's not so bad; she can convince herself that Light is just working overtime again. Being both L and Kira took up so much of his time. But there was never a day when she didn't hear his voice, even if it was just asking for her to write down names again.

"Misa's tired," she whispers, and makes her resolve.

The next day, she dresses immaculately. Does her makeup twice; making sure she looks perfect. Cleans the apartment until everything shines. Pours two glasses of blood red wine and lets them sit, sipping hers once, just enough to feel the sting of the alcohol as it goes down her throat.

She goes outside. Somehow she ends up at the old headquarters. She remembers how Light was without his memories. A lot more tender and caring, but she preferred him as he truly was. She's on the rooftop now.

There is a voice. She doesn't know if it's inside her head or not, but she listens. It sounds like Rem.

"_Misa, you don't have to. What will this accomplish? Yagami Light has passed on to nothingness. You cannot hope to reach him there. Step down, Misa. He was using you all along; why sacrifice everything for someone like that?! Misa, please...live. Live and be happy."_

She laughs, surprising herself for a brief moment.

"Misa can't live and be happy; because Light-kun was Misa's life. Light-kun _was_ Misa's happiness." she responds, not sure if the voice can hear her, or even if there was a voice. But it stops just the same.

"He was Misa's everything."

Was, was, was.

She surprises herself again, this time by crying. She catches the tears before they leak out, and they cluster around her eyes, thickening her mascara so that she sees through a tangle of spiders.

"Light," she says wistfully, staring out into the setting sun. She says his name over and over again, repeating it like a mantra. How fitting; he is a God, after all. Maybe not to everyone, and certainly not to the task force, but to her. To her he was a God, and more. He was a fiancée.

She keeps chanting his name in almost melodious tones. It's like music on her lips.

She sees flashes of memories. Him hugging her. Their first kiss. The ring he presented with such casual air. (How she had hugged him after that!) Him teaching her origami. Him reading Tolstoy and Dostoevsky to her by firelight. Him, him, him. All of them involving him. After all, her existence before him couldn't be called a life. No, it was more of a waiting period.

The past scenes of her life aren't visible anymore. She barely registers a tickling sensation against her skin, and the feeling of stopping.

She's still saying his name; her lips curved into a smile.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Misa. As she said, she didn't care if she was being used or not. She's not my favorite character (in fact I've developed a grudge against her), but she's an important character. And I've grown to respect and (maybe) like her (a little!). There. I said it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sayu**

Her eyes are dark; blacker than before. She can no longer muster enough willpower to speak; she cannot even take note of what is happening around her. Sometimes she hears a soft, trembling voice begging her to wake up; to talk; to look her in the eyes. But she can't remember who the owner of this voice is. And anyway, she is unable to respond.

With no way to perceive the present, and no assurance of a future, her mind instead dwells in the past. She'd had a family once, she knows. After a few weeks, her memories begin to play in her head. She does not will them to; she cannot choose which ones are brought out fro the abyss of her subconscious. But she is powerless to stop them, and learns to just...remember them; to watch passively as the scenes unfold in her mind's eye.

"_Sayu-chan! Tell your brother dinner's ready!"_ A woman's voice, it triggers something in her belly. A warm, tickling sensation that might have been defined as joy in anyone else.

Apparently, she had a brother. She wonders who this was. She does not wonder for long. Another memory resurfaces, this one of a young boy, possibly thirteen or fourteen.

* * *

"_Nii-san?" she bites her lip nervously. She is only ten at the time, and is wearing a summer frock; a pattern of daises on the hem._

"_What is it, Sayu?" The boy's voice is polite. It gives the impression of a responsible, kind, cultured child. A voice that could win anyone over. The owner of said voice is sitting gracefully by the window, reading a thick paperback._

"_Can you take me to the pool? Please?" her ten-year old self is rocking back and forth on her heels, nervously awaiting her brother's decision._

"_Didn't Dad say you're not allowed there?"_

_A sense of disappointment washes over her. She pouts and is halfway out the door when she feels a hand on her shoulder. It's Light._

"_Bring a spare set of clothes, okay?"_

_She nods happily and runs off._

_Light packs their things in duffel bag and leads her downstairs—he doesn't bother to sneak out, instead passes right through the kitchen, where their mother is making lunch._

"_We're going out."_

"_Be back by twelve," is all she says. Sayu is amazed, and makes a mental note to try this technique later on._

_Once they reach the public pool, Sayu realizes she didn't bring any money. Light sighs as he pays for her admission as well as his. She grins widely and goes off to change._

* * *

Her memories must have triggered a reaction in her expression, because a woman's voice is crying loudly; choked with joy and sadness at once. She does not respond (she cannot), and the joy fades to grief. What can she do about it?

_Ten-year old Sayu is mildly sulking. Her brother is performing laps with ease; enough to make a dolphin ashamed of his incompetence._

_She is envious; who wouldn't be? After all, **she's** the one that's co-captaining the school swim team! Determined to outshine her brother for once, she gets out of the pool and begins to trek up the diving board ladder._

_Light was always the perfect one; she knows perfectly well who her parents favor. All the same, she can't help feeling a bit uneasy. Not out of jealousy; but out of disbelief. How could someone like Light belong to their family? How was he even human? Sometimes she would walk in on him eating breakfast or talking on the phone, and be amazed that he even had to do those things._

_She is the splitting image of her mother, but she has her father's nose. Light doesn't look anything like the rest of them. As if he's elevated, somehow. His hair is auburn, not black. His eyes are a crisp amber, instead of dark brown. _

_And then there's the oh-so-insignificant fact that he's a genius. Her mother makes sure tot praise them both, no matter what they do, but her father is not so considerate. He once told her a story about how Light taught himself English from a book. _

"_**From a fucking book."**_

The thought flashes across her mind, burning itself into her skull. Strange; she can remember; notice; and know. But not once since...that incident...has she been able to truly think. She almost wonders at it, but is unable to. The memory is still playing in her mind.

* * *

_She is at the top now. Looking down makes her dizzy, but she takes one look at Light doing a perfect backstroke, and jumps. _

_For a moment she is smug. Light didn't know how to do something like this. But then it hits her that she didn't know how either. _

"_Sayu!"_

_And she screams. For a full second, she screams._

_Then her mouth is filled with water. She's landed roughly; her stomach has taken most of the blow. But she had no time to dwell on that, and instead had to deal with the oncoming darkness that is beginning to cloud her vision. She gropes around her; knowing how hopeless it is. She begins to fall. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a cloud of auburn._

_Strong arms are pulling her back up. She notices that she's out of the water, and lying on a smooth, hard surface. The tiles around the pool, she thinks. Slowly, her surroundings come into focus. The first thing she sees is a pair of hazel eyes._

"_Light," she rasps, coughing._

"_Are you alright, Sayu?"_

"_Yeah, fine." More coughing._

_She flinches at his glare. It could be the aftermath of nearly drowning, but his eyes suddenly take on a red hue, and she half-wants to hop back into the pool and take the lesser of the two evils. But then his eyes snap back to their normal amber, and he turns to a woman behind him. Sayu's eyes widen. She hadn't realized until now the crowd that had formed._

"_You alright there, girlie?" the woman asks. Sayu notices her badge. She is the lifeguard. And suddenly she's angry again. Stupid Light; he just had to outshine a **lifeguard**._

"_That was a pretty impressive save, kid," the woman ruffles Light's hair. He merely nods. He's used to this kind of praise; it's nothing special. Not to him, anyway. Sayu would kill to be in his place._

"_Let's go home; it's almost lunchtime." _

_Light has excused himself from the adoring crowd; he is holding out a hand to her. She's ready to slap it away; to insist that she's fine and that he better not tell Dad about this. But she can't. His soothing voice and honest expression completely win her over, and she feels a surge of gratitude to him. _

"_Thank you for saving my life, Nii-san."_

"_You're welcome, as long as you don't make this a regular thing."_

_He knows why she did it. Of course he does; he's a prodigy. She cringes at the thought of what he'll tell their parents when they get home—she'll be grounded for a year._

"_Don't worry, I won't tell if you won't."_

_She smiles. Its times like these when she can believe that her brother is perfect._

* * *

"How is she?" Light enters the room. This is his first day off since he took over as L. He dressed in black—it's his father's funeral today.

"She's doing fine, but there's no sign of recovery." Sachiko is ashamed at how brightly she can smile whenever her son's around. She should be mourning today—it's her husband after all—but the joy at seeing her firstborn is too great.

"None?"

"Sometimes she.." Sachiko hesitates. "She gets this look on her face, like she's...experiencing something," she struggled for words.

"It's alright, mother. It could be that she's replaying memories or emotions, but has not control as to what they are," he sounded brilliant, as always.

"So...do you think there's a chance that she'll wake up?"

"We can't say for sure."

"I know she will," Sachiko is firm. "And then she'll tell us exactly what happened. She does not notice the shadow that flits across her son's eyes at her words.

"It is possible," he says softly.

* * *

_Yagami Sayu_

_November 5th , 2014. Natural Causes. Remains silent and unresponsive until the end._

"Happy Birthday Sayu," Light whispered, closing the notebook. "I can't be expected to save you all the time."

* * *

**A/N: I know this was supposed to be the aftermath of Light's death, but I wanted it like this. So from now on, it'll just be how he affected everyone. I mean, if I kept it strictly post-mortem stories, Mello wouldn't get a chapter! And we can't have that.**


End file.
